


I Won't Run Again

by a_big_apple



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fair and the fireworks are over, Kyouya and Tamaki have a quiet heart-to-heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Run Again

The fireworks were, in theory, supposed to mark the end of the fair—the grand finale. It didn’t really work out that way; there was still dancing afterward, still courtyards and salons filled with students and parents, talking and champagne. Kyouya was beginning to feel the toll of a day filled with too much emotion. He’d secured his own future, then tossed it aside; he’d nearly lost everything, then gotten him back soaking wet and smiling that calm, half-lidded smile. The clock had struck midnight hours ago, and the twins had swiped a bottle of bubbly that the hosts passed surreptitiously among themselves as the night wore on, and all of a sudden Kyouya’s elaborate costume was too hot and too heavy to wear anymore. He slipped away without telling anyone, not because he didn’t want them to know, but because of the strange feeling he’d had since seeing Tamaki and Haruhi walk back out of that river—the feeling that they really _had_ become a family and wandering off alone for a few minutes couldn’t possibly damage that now.

He found his uniform in the mess of the prep room and stripped off the heavy cosplay, hanging it up piece by piece with routine care. Tamaki came in as he was pulling off his shoes, and they stared at each other for a moment in surprise; then Tamaki smiled, glittering and drowsy and probably a little bit buzzed. “I got tired of being wet,” he said, searching around for other clothes. 

“I got tired of being French,” Kyouya replied, and Tamaki chuckled. A few quiet minutes passed as they changed, and though Kyouya’s uniform jacket and tie suddenly felt almost as stifling as the costume had, he adjusted his collar and moved for the door. 

“Kyouya,” Tamaki said softly, stopping him with his tone. “I’m sorry. For acting so…foolishly. I thought—”

“I know what you thought,” Kyouya replied, turning to look at him. He was half-dressed in one of the spare uniforms, shirtless, his hair shielding his eyes from view. Kyouya pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I’m glad you realized you were wrong.” Tamaki looked up at him then. He understood Kyouya-speak very well. _I’m glad you realized that we love you,_ it meant, and _I’m pretty pissed at you,_ and _how could you scare me like that?_

“The concealer’s coming off,” Tamaki murmured in reply, his face somber.

“What?”

“On your cheek.” He abandoned the rest of his uniform, rummaging around in a drawer of makeup. “Come here, I’ll fix it for you.”

Kyouya hesitated a moment, but then Tamaki looked up at him again and drew him over with those intense eyes alone. Silently he pulled a little compact out of the drawer and held it up, considering the shade; then with sudden delicacy he swiped some onto his finger and leaned close to dab it across Kyouya’s cheekbone. 

He flinched, though Tamaki’s touch on the bruise was gentle.

_crack!_

Kyouya closed his eyes against the sound playing over again in his head, against Tamaki’s intent expression and the little glint of sorrow in it.

_“Is this how my son has been wasting his time?”_

Tamaki took his chin in one hand, turning his face to catch the light. “There.” Kyouya opened his eyes, and Tamaki’s face filled his vision. He was caught for a moment by the openness of his expression, the way every feeling he had moved across his features, the three years they’d spent together and the pain of families and the fair and the heady relief of narrowly avoiding catastrophe. Tamaki shifted his hand to rest it with sudden tenderness along the side of Kyouya’s face. “This is why I ran,” he said softly. “It was cruel of him to hit you like that.”

“You ran because my father was cruel?” Kyouya asked quietly, being purposely obtuse. 

“I ran because it felt like I’d hit you myself,” Tamaki replied, and Kyouya swallowed quickly over an uncharacteristic lump in his throat. Tamaki watched him, keeping still. “Thank you for sending her after me.”

Kyouya turned away at that, pulling his face from Tamaki’s reach. “You understand now.”

“Yes. I think she does too. But I don’t think anything will change, not yet. It’s like Kaoru said. We’re a family, it’s good that way.”

“They’ll be wondering where we are by now,” Kyouya answered, and moved for the door again; Tamaki caught his wrist to stop him this time. 

“Kyouya, look at me.”

He turned again, feeling Tamaki’s fingers against the flutter of his pulse.

“I won’t run again, Kyouya. You’re stuck with me now.”

Kyouya pushed his glasses back up his nose, and slowly smiled.


End file.
